Afternoons of an Agnostic version 3

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Afternoons of an Agnostic

Solar furies perch upon my shoulders
as my past life plays out
transfigured into nameless sins
in the sunlit isolation of noon.

The dust of my predicate soul 
stirs of its own accord 
leaving no traces
except fearful reliefs
distinct and disapproved.

I want to submit to an implausible God
who watches over my confusion,
One who counts my locked steps
in a circular path of infinite distance
while I anticipate a final vision
that submerges me in His Presence.

But God departs and evening comes
and a twilit peace scatters the furies.
Night descends to mark His Absence.
In sleep I walk with dreams of daylight sprites, 
freed from His implacable Prison.
Will I be forgiven the starlight doubts 
in my unhoused brain?

Unconscious morning marks the moment
where the simplicity of waking
returns me to my double self,
another day on the verge of discovering divinity.

I await with dread the post meridian.

Afternoons of an Agnostic



Noon-time, and solar furies 

perch upon my shoulders

as my past life plays out

realized as nameless sins.



Sunlit isolation lays heavy 

on the void inside my chest 

and the dust in my predicated soul stirs

of its own accord, leaving no traces

except caged reliefs

distinct and disapproved.



I surrender my sins to an impossible God

who watches over my dissolution.

He counts my steps

in a circular path of infinite distance

as I wait for a final cry

to be strangled by His Presence.



Evening will come as God departs, 

a twilit peace scatters the furies

and shadows disguise my failures.

Night comes with His Absence, 

and in sleep I walk into dreams

of daylight sprites, freed from His prison,

who forgive the starlight of my unhoused brain.



Unconscious morning marks the moment

where the simplicity of waking

returns me to my doubtless self

on the verge of discovering divinity.

I await with dread the post meridian.







version 1



At noon, solar furies perch upon my shoulders



as past lives play out their mistakes 



transformed into sin.







Sunlit isolation, absent any shade,



lays heavy on the black muscle of my voided heart 



and the dust in my biblical soul stirs



of its own accord, leaving no traces



except disappearance and caged reliefs



distinct and disapproved.







I apply my memories to an invisible God



who watches over my dissolution.



He accounts for my every move,



circular steps in a prison yard of infinite distance



measured out in years of waiting for the final cry



strangled in my throat by his Presence.







Evening will come and with it



twilight peace will replace the furies as God departs



and dark will fill my creviced failures.



Promised sleep will wake in dream



and daylight sprites, loosed from their box,



will make starlight inside my unhoused brain.







Unconscious morning marks the moment



where the simplicity of waking



returns me to my solitary self, 



on the verge of discovering divinity



and again I await with dread the post meridian.